


Sticking to the System

by LivviLovesIronDad



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Depressed Peter Parker, Gen, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Peter Parker Has Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 11:48:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27970091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LivviLovesIronDad/pseuds/LivviLovesIronDad
Summary: Everyone is always worried about Peter, and quite frankly he's tired of it. So what if he's struggling? Peter has got this under control, and that's that.
Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 12
Kudos: 87





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first IronDad fic and I hope you all enjoy. 
> 
> As a warning, this fic contains graphic descriptions of self-harm and mentions of disordered eating due to depression. Please only read if you're in a safe headspace to do so.

It’s really easy to put on a happy face when you wear a mask. It’s not so easy when you’re just plain Peter Parker, with no poker face to speak of. 

“Are you feeling okay kid?”

“Sweetie, I’m worried about you.”

“This standard of work just isn’t like you-”

“Parker, what is up with you lately? You’re zoning out during practice again.”

“Peter, why don’t you come over for dinner? My mom is making adobo tonight, and you didn’t eat lunch today.”

Okay, so Peter clearly wasn’t doing a great job reassuring everyone that he was fine. But he was ~~not~~ fine. So he was a little frayed around the edges, between the chemical imbalance in his brain and school and patrol, but he was coping. 

Peter had fallen back on an old habit with his newer stress relievers taken away. Going toe to toe with armed muggers wasn’t exactly excusable on a regular basis, what with Karen reporting every injury back to Mr. Stark. So what if the danger had made him feel alive and alert, and the soreness of his bruises grounded him away from the floating numbness that threatened to swallow him? There simply wasn’t a way to explain these sloppy encounters, not when Mr. Stark wanted to review the footage and point out ways Peter could be safer in the field, and not when May checked in on him after every patrol now that she was in the know. He would just have to get by in other ways. 

That was where Peter found himself on a Tuesday evening in the tiny bathroom of his apartment. Trying to get by any way he could, even if it was a disgusting habit, a series of broken promises, and something that would disappoint everyone who cares about him. 

Just one little slice. A flick of his wrist. One smooth drag of the blade across his arm. Peter knew that was all it would take for him to feel… ~~betterworserelievedempty~~ quiet. A break from his racing thoughts, a chance for the numb prickling behind his eyes to finally break, and for that ever-present knot in his stomach to unwind, even if just for a moment. 

_But, I promised May… She’ll never find out… Even if she found out before… Things are different now, don’t you want to feel better?_

It was hard to argue with himself over the idea of feeling better. Peter stopped his silent reverie to stare himself down in the mirror. Weak. That’s what he was. 

_Can’t keep a promise to May or Mr. Stark even if it would save my life. Doesn’t seem to matter what it is. Breaking curfew. Going after guys with guns. Cutting again. Flushing my meds because they stopped doing anything. Lying, lying all the time to everyone who cares._

Peter felt numb to everything but guilt as he watched his eyes fill with unspilled tears. He stopped to slide open the toiletry bag that held one of his biggest secrets in life. Peter’s hand was steady as he took out his favorite tool for the job, a thin blade broken out of one of those expensive six blade razors. It was dainty in his practiced fingers, such an unassuming thing that he can use for so much damage. Peter moved into position and pressed the blade against the skin of his forearm. One slice with the perfect pressure, skin parting and blood welling up in a crimson trail behind the shining silver implement. Peter exhaled, sigh heavy with the release of tension as the bright burst of pain washed over him. Another slice. Another slice. Another slice. Time seemed to blur as he bent his head to his task. 

With every cut his shoulders relaxed and the churning in his stomach slowed to a stop. He sniffled quietly as the tears caught in his eyes finally released. Peter exhaled slowly, letting out the breath he’d been unknowingly holding. There was the relaxation he was looking for. Peter finally stopped, feeling like for tonight he’d done enough. He rinsed his arm in the sink before pressing down on the wounds with a clean washrag, waiting for the bleeding to stop. It was easy enough to throw the rags in with his spidey laundry, easy to pass off any bloodstains from cleaning up after patrol. He had bandaging and disinfectant supplies in spades now, Mr. Stark didn’t like him not having a full first aid kit. 

At the first thought of Mr. Stark guilt started to seep back around the edges of his mind. Peter gritted his teeth and slapped at the fresh cuts on his arm, letting out a soft grunt into the quiet of the room. A sharp spike of pain cut through that maddening feeling building back up in his brain, spilling from his subconscious in unwanted torrents, directly connected to his self loathing and deep seated need to please. 

_Get it together Peter. Mr. Stark doesn’t know about this, and he’s not ever going to know._

Suddenly there was a knock at the door, and May’s sleepy voice came through. “Peter? Are you okay sweetie?”

_Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-_

Peter dropped his rag into the sink with a surprised yelp and steeled his voice to sound as even as possible. “Yes May, I’m fine! Sorry, just finishing up in here!” 

He turned the sink on to rinse the cloth and flushed the toilet to mask the sound of him packing up his kit, then pulled his hoodie’s blessedly black sleeves down over his arms. Turning off the water, he stowed the bag in the depths under the sink, beyond the dusty cleaning supplies, and hung the wet rag in the shower to dry. Peter mourned the missed chance to disinfect and bandage the wounds, but it would have to do for the night since his aunt was waiting right outside. 

Peter slunk out of the bathroom, weakly making eye contact with his aunt who was looking at him with concern. “All done!” He tried to chirp but just ended up squeaking the words out of his tight throat. 

May lifted a hand and rested it on his face, tracing the tear tracks with her thumb. “You feeling okay hun?”

“I’m fine.” Peter said tightly, trying and failing to force a grin as he brushed away her cool hand, regretting it immediately as sadness and concern tightened her face. Peter tried again. “I’m just tired May, it’s been a long day.”

“Peter, sweetie... You’ve been crying.” 

“It’s nothing. Like I said, it’s been a long day, had a rough patrol after school today. I’ll be just fine in the morning.” Peter shifted uncomfortably as her penetrating gaze swept over him. “I promise.” He said, forcing confidence into his voice like he would on patrol. 

May sighed and accepted his promise. “All right baby, but you’d tell me if something was really wrong right? You know you can come to me with anything?”

_You can’t take this to her Peter, it would break her heart all over again._

Peter hated himself for lying through his teeth the entire conversation, loathing deepening as the lie grew. “Yes May, I know-” He said, before leaning in for a hug. 

Once he was inside his room he sighed with relief, locking the door behind him for privacy. Peter could feel how his hoodie had started sticking to his clotting cuts during the conversation with his Aunt, and was eager to take it off before the situation got worse. He suppressed a hiss as he carefully pulled the hoodie away from his skin, and pulled his arm carefully through the sleeve to rest against his chest for protection as he removed the sweatshirt. Peter surveyed the cuts on his arm with cold disinterest. They were already scabbing over, with fresh wells of blood forming where the fabric had pulled away from his healing skin. Peter grabbed some tissue from beside his bed to wipe away the blood, mentally reminding himself to flush the evidence in the morning. 

A little “stress relief” twice a week was enough to keep him going, but not so often that he couldn’t wear short sleeves to meals with May, and kept Karen’s injury scans from picking up any fresh wounds. By tomorrow afternoon they would be totally healed into fresh pink scars, and by the day after that they would fade into white, joining the tapestry of faint lines already decorating his forearm. Peter would keep on coping as he had for months, as long as he kept to his system.

Peter pulled on a clean long sleeve shirt, getting into bed and letting the exhaustion of the day start to sink in, despite it being barely ten at night. Pushing his earbuds into his place, he pulled up a relaxation playlist on his phone and curled up into a ball beneath the sheets, hoping to drown out the ever present buzz of his own thoughts with inoffensive sound. Peter fell asleep slowly, feeling his body relax muscle by muscle, music spinning through his brain. 

_Fear. Choking, suffocating fear._

_Tons of pressure pushing him down against unforgiving concrete, broken rebar digging into his chest and back._

_Help! Help me! I’m down here!_

_“Who would want to save you when you can’t even save yourself kid?” Tony’s voice echoed strangely through the dust and grit in the air of the warehouse._

_Peter tried to yell from where the concrete had him pinned, but the force against him made it hard to fill his lungs. The rubble started to shift, bearing down heavier and heavier on top of him, Peter tried to push with all his strength and barely moved the concrete above him. He tried again and again, and was only rewarded with sharp pain as the rebar cut into his skin. Peter could feel the wetness of his blood starting to seep from the wound. It started to sink in, like ice creeping under his skin, that nobody was going to help him, he was alone and going to die here. Maybe they’d find his body when it started to stink, maybe they’d be able to give May some closure that way._

Peter awoke with a start, chest heaving and heart rabbiting what had to be a million miles per hour. The taste of dust was strong in his mouth, leaving him gagging and failing under the sheets that were clinging to the cold sweat soaking his body. Peter laid there, jaw clenched, trying to hold in his panicked breathing for what felt like hours before he could roll over and check the clock. It was barely past two, plenty of time for him to fall back asleep and get enough rest before school. 

Several hours later, Peter had given up on sleep entirely, and wanted to laugh in exhausted despair at his earlier optimism. His alarm was about to go off, and all he’d accomplished was a long session of staring at the bunk bed above him, wrestling with his thoughts and battling the anxious churning of his stomach, grimacing through the antics of his keyed up senses. The nights after a nightmare were always the worst. Headphones couldn’t keep out the noise of the bustling city that scraped along his overwrought nerves, nothing seemed to soothe the rough scratching of his clothing against his skin. 

Shutting off his alarm before it could begin to beep, Peter sat up in the bed and started to get ready for the day, choosing his softest hoodie and joggers, and sighing at the dark circles under his eyes as he combed through his curls. Not for the first time Peter considered learning how makeup works, just so he could cover up the evidence of his sleepless nights. Peter listened carefully for May in the apartment; all he could hear was her quiet, even breathing. Satisfied, he slunk out of his room and retrieved his kit from under the bathroom sink, stashing it in the ceiling where he used to keep his suit. 

Peter made it out the door with time to spare, choking down some peanut butter toast as he walked to the subway station on his way to school. He made it there well before the first bell, and hid out in a desk near the back of the library, the least likely place for Flash Thompson to materialize, waiting for class to begin. Already yawning and exhausted by the day ahead, Peter pulled up the hood of his sweatshirt and laid his head on his arms, to rest in the quiet for a few minutes before class. 


	2. Chapter 2

The buzzing in his pocket woke Peter up from a deep, dreamless slumber. He lifted his head, wincing at the stiffness in his neck and pulled out his phone. Fourteen missed calls and seven text messages.

_Oh my God it’s almost noon already?!_

With shaking hands and feeling of impending doom Peter unlocked his phone and cringed at his notification feed. He had missed calls from May and Mr. Stark, along with texts from them both as well as Ned.

**📞 _10 Missed Calls from call me MAYbe_**

**📞 _4 Missed Calls from Mr. S_ 😎**

**🗨️ call me MAYbe**

**Hey, where are you? The school called and said you’re absent today?**

**Peter I’m worried about you, call me back!**

**🗨️ Mr. S 😎**

**Aunt Hottie just called me, where are you?**

**You’d better not be out without the suit**

**I’m serious kid**

**🗨️ Nedster**

**ur aunt just texted me and asked where u r - u need me to cover?**

**where r u anyway?**

Peter quickly started a group text with Mr. Stark and May, tapped out a message, then dropped his location.

**I’m sooooo sry! At school I promise! Fell asleep in the library 😞😞😞**

**📍 View Location**

**🗨️ Mr. S 😎**

**Pete are you kidding me right now?**

**🗨️ call me MAYbe**

**He’s right! Peter are you joking? We were so worried about you!**

**I’m not joking, I swear! I fell asleep before class this morning. 😭**

**What do I do?**

**Go to the office?**

**🗨️ call me MAYbe**

**I’ll call the school but you’re probably going to get detention 🤷 Btw you are so grounded.**

**🗨️ Mr. S 😎**

**I might give you detention myself kid.**

**🗨️ call me MAYbe**

**Calling them now, go to the office and wait.**

**ok 😭😞**

Peter swore to himself softly then did as he was told and headed to the office, walking slowly to what felt like his execution. He dawdled along the way, stopping at every water fountain and taking the long way around, past the gym and the cafeteria. The school secretary was already waiting for him as he hesitantly opened the door just enough to slink inside.

She gave him a severe look over her glasses and pointed to the small waiting area. “Have a seat Mr. Parker. Principal Morita will be out for you shortly.”

_Oh shit, Principal Morita? Fuck you’ve really screwed the pooch this time Peter._

Face pale and stomach clenched with anxiety, Peter sat down and entwined his arms inside the sleeves of his oversized hoodie, running his fingernails along the still sensitive raised scars from last night, wishing he could somehow dig in his bitten down fingernails enough to provide some relief.

_Calm down, the worst he can do is give you detention. Or suspend you- Or take away your scholarship- Or expel you!_

Peter was interrupted from his increasingly hysterical musings by Principal Morita’s appearance outside his office door. “Peter? Ah, there you are. Well, you’d better come in.”

Once they were inside his office, Principal Morita gestured for Peter to sit down and began to speak. “Peter- Is everything okay at home?”

“What?” Peter was startled by the question.

“I know you’ve had a hard go over the last year since the passing of your uncle. We try to keep a close eye on all of our scholarship students, just to make sure everything is running smoothly. Peter, quite frankly we’re worried about you. Your grades took a big dip early this year that you still haven’t made up-”

“Is this about my scholarship? Principal Morita, I promise I’m getting my grades back up!”

“I do see you working hard, but it’s other things as well. You’ve dropped almost all of your extracurriculars, you try to skip class, you disappeared from Homecoming... Peter it looks like you’ve barely been sleeping, and now today you fell asleep in the school library. I just want to make sure everything is okay at home, is there anything we can do to support you here?”

Peter was flummoxed, he was expecting to be professionally chewed out, not subjected to an intense check-in about his home life. “I promise, everything is fine. My- My Stark internship started taking up so much time, it was easier to drop a few activities so I’d have time to finish my homework. I know my grades took a dip while I was figuring it out, but I’ve been asking for extra credit and-”

“There’s no delicate way to say this, but this Stark internship excuse, Peter it’s wearing thin. We’ve tried to be tolerant of it, but it plainly says on their website that internships are only available to college students with at least 20 hours a week of daytime availability…”

“So you don’t believe me?” Peter asked flatly.

“We’ve never gotten any paperwork or confirmation from Stark Industries either. Now, I know this is upsetting but I would like for you to be honest with me. This is your chance, you can come clean about anything you want.”

Peter stared at the principal for a long moment, numb fury clogging his throat. What could Peter say really, he _was_ lying about the internship. He was lying about so much to everyone.

“Principal Morita, I’m not lying.” Peter’s level of conviction sounded weak, even to his ears.

The man sighed and shook his head sadly. “Alright Peter. If that’s all you have to say on the matter, that’s all I’ll say as well. You’ll have detention for the rest of the week for missing classes this morning. Now, you’d better head to lunch before it’s over.”

Peter angrily gathered up his backpack and tried not to storm out of the office, carefully closing the door behind him before running to the nearest bathroom. He slammed the stall door shut and collapsed on the seat to let his silent and furious tears flow, chest hiccuping with suppressed sobs as bit down on his arm to muffle any sounds.

_Fuck Peter, you have to stop crying! Get it together! You don’t deserve to cry about this, you’re the one who got yourself into this situation in the first place._

He groped blindly into his backpack looking for his phone to text May with an update when his hand caught on his pencil case, and suddenly his thoughts sprung to the blade on the pencil sharpener inside. It was like watching someone else pilot his body as he opened the case, pulled out the sharpener, and cracked open the cheap plastic housing.

Peter pulled up the sleeve of his hoodie and without hesitation forced the blade across his inner arm several times. Biting his lip against the flares of pain that accompanied his actions, he closed his eyes and savored the sensation that cut through the anguish he was feeling, granting him some blessed clarity and tapering off the tears that were flowing down his face.

Letting out a deep, shaky sigh of relief Peter grabbed for the rough toilet paper and pressed it evenly against his open wounds to stem the flow of blood. Thankful for his enhanced healing factor, it only took a few moments for the wounds to clot over. Soon the bell rang indicating the end of lunch, so Peter quickly got rid of the bloody paper and washed his face in the bathroom sink to remove the tear tracks. At least he had missed Ned’s probable lunchtime interrogation, and could put it off until last period.

Peter visited his locker and floated through his afternoon classes, not speaking or interacting with anyone unless he was called on by the teacher. He didn’t even respond to Flash’s typical insults. That strange numb feeling was back and becoming more and more familiar, like someone else was driving the car and Peter was just along for the ride. “Disassociation,” Peter’s brain helpfully supplied, a term he’d learned during sleepless nights spent searching for what the hell was wrong with him. He was just glad to mostly fly under the radar after the spectacularly shitty day he’d been having.

“Psst- Peter, where have you been all day?” Ned was frantically trying to get Peter’s attention as they settled into the last class of the day.

“Talk about it later- need to focus.” Peter snapped, not feeling up to answering questions, even for his best friend.

As soon as the last bell rang, Peter grabbed his books, and rushed out of the classroom, losing Ned in the crowd on the way to the detention room. He sighed in relief when the hallways finally cleared and Ned was nowhere to be seen.

Fifteen minutes later, and Peter was almost wishing Ned _had_ found him. If you’ve seen the Captain America detention video once, you’d seen it enough times to memorize, and Peter found himself mouthing along with it irritably as he slumped in his chair and stared blankly at the ceiling. What felt like an eternity of cheesy after school specials passed before Couch Wilson dismissed him from detention. Peter stood up from his seat so fast he almost knocked the desk over. Blushing at the commotion, Peter slung his backpack on his back with a sigh, ready to get home after his stressful day.

_Fuck, I can’t handle any more today._

Peter made his way quickly and quietly through the empty school building, peeking around the corners. He peered through the windows at the front of the school with trepidation, but the coast was clear, no Ned to be seen. Peter was barely aware of how he got home, floating on the cloud of relief that he’d managed to escape the upcoming confrontation. It lasted until he got inside his apartment building, where Ned was waiting, sitting on the bottom of the stairs. Peter’s chest lit up with a hot flush of anger followed by a flood of guilt.

_Couldn’t Ned take a hint?! That’s not fair. He’s my best friend._

“Hey.” Peter said softly.

“Hey.” Ned nodded, looking like he was about to burst with questions.

Peter sighed. “Come upstairs- We can talk there.”

Late afternoon light flooded the kitchen of the Parkers’ apartment, where Peter and Ned were standing, snacks and sodas in hand. The boys made their way into the living room and sat silently on the couch, before speaking at the same time.

“I-”

“Peter-”

Ned laughed uneasily. “Why don’t I go first? I’m- I’m worried about you Peter.”

_Oh no, not this again._

Peter tried to wipe the expression of dismay off his face before Ned could see it, and took a deep breath before he replied. “I don’t know why, I’m doing fine.”

“Dude!” Ned yelled, before quieting his voice. “You’re totally not fine! How long have we been best friends Peter, you don’t think I know you by now?”

“You don’t need to-” Peter could hardly get a word in edgewise as Ned continued ranting.

“You look like you’re not sleeping, you never eat at lunch anymore, you zone out in class all the time-” Ned looked like he was going to burst into tears. “Stop shutting me out!”

Peter felt that familiar, stomach-churning combination of guilt and anger rising in him. “I’m not shutting you out!”

“Well then what the heck do you call it!?” Ned sounded exasperated, like he was losing his patience with Peter.

“I’m allowed to have secrets Ned!” Peter replied, indignant.

Ned sighed. “Peter, you’re not supposed to keep secrets that hurt you.”

Peter paled and stuttered, wrapping his arms around himself defensively. “What- what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that whatever you have going on is clearly eating you alive!”

“It’s none of your business Ned!” Peter was near tears himself. “Fuck, just let me deal with my problems, I can handle things just fine!”

“Well then,” Ned said, chin jutting stubbornly out, “if that’s what you think, fine!”

“Fine!” Peter sat back in his seat with a huff.

Peter and Ned stared at each other, both looking and feeling miserable and angry.

“I should just go-” Ned said sadly, shaking his head.

“Wait,” Peter interjected, “Ned, you don’t have to-”

“No, I do.” Ned sniffled, standing up and grabbing for his bag. “I can’t sit here and pretend everything is alright when you won’t talk to me. I’ll just see you at school tomorrow.”

Peter watched with wide eyes as his best friend simply, just- Walked out the door, leaving Peter alone. “Fuck.”

There didn’t seem to be any point in trying to tackle his homework with his thoughts so tangled, and his stomach in huge roiling knots. Peter decided he was giving up on the day, and swaddled himself in blankets and misery on his bed.

Several hours later, Peter could hear the familiar cadence of May’s footsteps in the hallway long before the jingle of her keys as she opened the apartment door. He rolled over on the bottom bunk to hide his tearstained face against the wall, and closed his eyes as he heard May call out for him.

“Sweetie? Peter, are you home?”

Quite frankly, Peter had had enough emotional trauma for one day.

_Maybe if I pretend to be asleep she’ll leave me alone._

He kept his breathing even as he heard May entering his room, deliberately didn’t flinch or react as she reached out and brushed a gentle hand through his hair. Peter could feel her eyes drilling into him for a long while, probably trying to decide if she should wake him up, before she made up her mind and sighed gently.

“Goodnight sweetheart.” May said softly, turning off his desk lamp and closing the door gently.

Peter sagged with relief as he realized he’d gotten away with it. Tears rose to his eyes and trickled down his cheeks as he started thinking about the day.

_I’m a terrible person, I’m an awful nephew, and I’m a worse friend._

With those thoughts echoing in his mind, Peter spent the majority of the night once again staring at the bunk above him, running through the day in his mind, trying to think of ways he could have handled the various confrontations better. It was a fruitless struggle as he deconstructed every conversation and interaction in his mind, not coming to any helpful conclusions. Peter drifted off to a restless sleep only a handful of minutes before his morning alarm, still chewing himself to pieces as the city woke up around him.

_Maybe things would be better if I was a different person, or if I was just gone entirely._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your kind comments and kudos! I hope everyone enjoys this chapter. <3

**Author's Note:**

> Don't by shy, leave a kudos or comment if you enjoyed. ♥


End file.
